


'till the world turns upside down

by sleepylouis



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alex is a shameless flirt, Dubious Consent, Eliza is a Good Bro, Hogwarts, Light D/s, M/M, Underage - Freeform, alex is young scrappy and hungry (sorry)?, older washington, the shameless hogwarts/hamilton au no one asked for
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:46:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7250677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepylouis/pseuds/sleepylouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George Washington is the Wizarding world's most brilliant up-and-coming politician. There really isn't a limit to how high he can climb, how successful he can be, how powerful he can become. </p><p>Well. Until there is.</p><p>Alex Hamilton can be very persistent.</p>
            </blockquote>





	'till the world turns upside down

**Author's Note:**

> I'm back after like... 2 years? Yikes?
> 
> Writing Hamilton fic was definitely not on my list of expectations I had for myself, but here we are. I really just don't know what I have to say for myself. 
> 
> Thanks for bringing me down into the pit of fanfiction, Lin Manuel Miranda.
> 
> Okay, so on the order of business:
> 
> The ages are adjusted to fit more of a high-school like age bracket. In the prologue, Washington and Hamilton are 18-19 and 16-17 respectively.
> 
> Alex's parents are both dead (poor alex) instead of just his mother because it was easier to write. 
> 
> More applicable for later chapters, but the Wizengamot in this universe serves as the legislative body and is established in the same way that the British parliamentary system is.

The first five years of his academic term Hogwarts, Washington thinks retrospectively, were actually peaceful.

And that says something.

He remembers little of his first two years at Hogwarts. He was a boy then, probably too self-confident for his age, yet awkward, with limbs longer than his body knew what to do with. His professors called him intelligent and a quiet leader, his peers admired his athleticism and his star position as Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, and his close knit friends, Henry Knox and Nathaniel Greene, secretly poked fun at what they called his _pretentious prefect behavior._

So passed his third year and fourth year. He got top marks, was made captain of the Quidditch team, kissed his first girl and found out he didn't like it as much as he would've expected. He gets drunk on the weekends and parties with his quickly-growing circle of friends and pretends he isn't nursing a huge hangover in Transfiguration the next morning. He's young and he's bright and he's stupid, but it's fine because he's _George Washington_ and everyone admires him and secretly he revels in that fact.

Fifth year rolls around and he begins dating the raven-haired Slytherin named Martha, much to his friends' glee. It's like a joke between them, an inter-house relationship with Gryffindor and Slytherin no less. Washington laughs off the jokes at his own expense. Martha is smart and beautiful and definitely his social equivalent. They're the power couple of that year, and no one seems to be able to quit gossiping about George and Martha, the two who dared to challenge House boundaries.

  
No one knows that secretly George is beginning to realize that Martha just isn't for him, that maybe his issue is more systematic, that maybe girls just aren't for him. It's an absurd thought, one that he brushes under the rug and hopes disappears. He loves Martha, he loves the way he can take her body into his, loves the way she kisses him. At least that's what he tells himself.

He's happy, he thinks.

[]

Washington, now as a newly initiated sixth-year prefect, is pretty in tuned to the coming and goings of the castle. He's been one of Hogwart's top students, with a promising future in the Ministry of Magic ahead of him. He's made all sorts of records as Quidditch captain, and won the Quidditch Cup with his team every year since he was made captain. He's still dating Martha, who was a regular at his house over the summer, who his parents absolutely adore, who the rest of the world thinks he's probably going to marry once he comes of age. Washington is comfortable in his position on top of the social hierarchy, languid about his well-respected and popular status, and as content as a sexually-confused teenager can be.

The first time he hears his name, they're at a feast.

_"Did you hear about that Alex Hamilton?" The girl is giggling over her goblet of pumpkin juice. "He dueled Sam Seabury on the Quidditch grounds the other night! And he didn't even get expelled!"_

_"Come on," the girl's companion rolls her eyes. "The professors love him. Supposedly he's the most brilliant student they've ever had. I heard he got straight Os on his exams and he didn't even study!"_

_"I think he's hot headed and impulsive," another puts in disdainfully. "He's too much for me. Obnoxious."_

Washington paid no heed then.

He probably saw him in the hallways a couple of times without being fully aware of it. The scrawny, slender boy with shiny black hair tumbling over his shoulders, most of the time pulled back into a sloppy bun. The big, intelligent brown eyes and full lips. The tanned skin and slightly-lilting voice that seems to carry farther than his small frame could possibly manage. The ink stains consistently on his fingers, and the twitchy way that he moved, like his mind has too much to say and do and not enough time to complete it all. A fairly typical, if not more brilliant, third year. Nothing too serious.

It isn't until Washington is patrolling the empty corridors over winter break that he first encounters him face-to-face.

He's sitting listlessly in the courtyard, snow dancing around him like a scene from a snowglobe. His raven-black hair strikes a contrast against the white of the courtyard. His hair obscures his face from sight, but Washington can see he's muttering some incantation, his wand producing an elaborate wreath of some sorts.

He doesn't even hear Washington approaching.

"You should be on break," Washington folds his arms against his chest and watches the kid's handiwork. "The castle is nearly empty and it's freezing out here."

The kid jumps, clearly startled. His cheeks redden as his hair falls away from his face. Or maybe it's just the cold--Washington can't tell.

"Sorry," he mumbles, adverting his gaze. He's wearing the purple and silver robes of a Ravenclaw. Washington should've guessed he was sorted into the House renown for producing brilliant students.

He moves to put his wand back, but Washington stops him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

"It's beautiful," he compliments him simply. And it's true--it's a skillful bit of magic. The kid rubs furiously at his face. He sniffles. Washington realizes he's crying.

He crouches in front of him. The kid tries to back out of his reach. Washington is faster.

"Hey. Hey," he says gently. "C'mon kid. It's all right. What's your name?"

Some more mumbling. Washington asks him patiently to repeat himself.

"Alex Hamilton," he finally gets out miserably. He doesn't try to hide the tear tracks on his cheeks now. Washington, for the first time, can get a good view of his face. Sharp cheekbones. Bright eyes. Hair tumbling all around his face. He's young-looking--maybe fourteen--but there's a resilience and determination that Washington can admire. He looks almost defensively fierce.

"It's okay to be homesick," Washington says conversationally. "It's hard being without parents, especially over the holidays. You'll go home soon enough though."

Alex stiffens. His wand hand freezes, then goes limp at his side. He drops his eyes.

"My parents are dead."

 _Oh_. Washington's not sure what to do with this new information. He sighs deeply.

Somehow he knows Alex doesn't want his pity.

"Alright kid. Let's get you inside and warmed up," he says, standing. He offers Alex a hand, which Alex tentatively takes. His slender hands are freezing in Washington's larger ones. He steadies Alex, braces him, makes sure he doesn't fall. Alex tries to act impervious, but Washington can see through his exterior. He's always been overly-perceptive. Alex is just another insecure boy with no reason to be, and a determination that will lend itself to distinction in due time. Washington sees a lot in him, even if he didn't realize it at first. But that's just the type of person Alex is--magnetic and demanding attention of others without actively appearing that way.

Washington leads him to the Gryffindor common room and sits him down in the large, comfy armchair by the fire. He makes him some hot cocoa and gives him a blanket to curl up with. The armchair swallows him whole, makes him look impossibly small and young. Washington doesn't say anything, doesn't have to, which makes the atmosphere a lot less awkward than if the opposite were the case. The Gryffindor common room is deserted due to the majority of students returning home over the holidays; it's dead quiet save for the crackling of the fire. Alex sips his hot cocoa and looks around him in wonder. It's obvious he's never been in the Gryffindor common room before.

Washington pulls out a scroll and begins doing his potions homework, content to sit in silence. He's done this sort of thing hundreds of times before--whether it be a drunk fourth year he escorted back to their common room, an inconsolable third year who needed a shoulder to cry on, or a stressed out fifth year who needed an older student's perspective, Washington always seems to be the one stuck dealing with these situations. Which he doesn't particularly mind. He's good with people.

He half-pays attention to the essay he's writing and half watches Alex slowly drift off to sleep. And that's it--that's their first meeting, as inconsequential as a passing weekday, and yet Washington can't seem to put the kid out of his mind.

[]

Washington doesn't see Alex again for the rest of his sixth year.

Summer comes quickly afterwards. Washington gets through his OWLs with decent marks, but nothing like he's used to. His parents won't talk to him out of their disappointment--as if a couple of As on his OWLs will ruin his future career in the Ministry of Magic--and he fights with Martha incessantly. Washington is tired and stressed and not as happy as he should be as a rising seventh year student. He doesn't think of Alex again, but he tells himself that it's entirely a coincidence that the first kid he sleeps with has jet-black hair and big brown eyes. Entirely.

They have a fling, Washington and his sixth year kid. Washington learns that he likes the way that the kid comes apart beneath him way more than he ever did Martha. He fucks him off and on and convinces himself that he's not really cheating, just experimenting, and life goes on.

 _Oh yeah_. He also gets his letter in the mail. Washington is made Head Boy.

He goes to fancy social gatherings with his parents, who show him off like a precious possession. Martha decorates his arm and smiles, smiles, smiles, hiding all the fights they've had behind closed doors and the growing discontent between them. Washington marvels at her capacity for self preservation despite their obvious incompatibility, and doesn't have the heart to formally end it with her. She's beautiful, she's smart, she's ambitious, and she makes his parents happy. The perfect wife for a future politician. The perfect cover for his preferences, which his parents (and the rest of the political world) would never accept. Martha tolerates him because she, like so many others, knows he's bound for some sort of success, a success that she will benefit from with her own ambitions. A relationship initially started out of superficial attraction and then built out of mutual need and nothing more.

  
So it's hard, yes, but they're _surviving_.

  
Then, three days before the start of their term, Martha catches him with one of the valet boys at a gala they attended together. Washington has him pinned against the wall, kissing at his neck furiously, and he's moaning in his ear, a delicious sound that goes straight to Washington's trousers--

The boy freezes, and Washington slowly turns around to see Martha at the doorway, a murderous look on her perfectly-arranged features. She's white-faced and furious as she slams the closet door, her heels echoing in the hallway. Washington closes his eyes and sighs heavily.

 _God save him_.

"I should've known," Martha is shouting shrilly, pulling at her hair. Three weeks have passed since the incident, and they're in an abandoned corridor at Hogwarts. "You absolute scoundrel, you filthy little--"

"What do you want me to do about it!" Washington explodes, his wand sparking angrily. He's always been good at controlling his emotions, but she's pushing him over his edge. "I can't help that I'm just not attracted to you in the way! You can't tell me that you didn't know this wasn't authentic! We're together because the world expects us to be, Martha! Don't act daft!"

She recoils. Washington is suddenly struck by a thought: _Martha might've actually thought he would learn to love her._ He feels a stab of pity. Maybe he could've been a little less harsh...

"You've never been attracted to any woman," she snarls. It's not a question; it's more of an accusation. She's waiting for him to deny it. He says nothing.

"Of fucking _course_ you haven't," she closes her eyes and throws her hands up in the air. "It would be easier if you had at least cheated on me with a girl. Your parents would love this."

"Martha, please," he says weakly. "Listen. You know that we can form a mutually beneficial relationship. We could be happy, you know. Maybe not love, but good friends. I admire you. You're brilliant and you're ambitious. You know I would treat you well."

Her face darkens.

"You don't even have a clue what you're asking me to give up," she hisses. Washington has rarely seen her this angry. "A chance at my own sort of happiness. Maybe I could fall in love, get married, be normal. Just fuck you, George. _Fuck you_."

She paces angrily. Her hair falls into her eyes and she brushes it away with annoyance. Washington says nothing. There isn't anything he could say to mollify her. Martha has always been that way--fiercely independent.

"You better be worth it," she says finally. "Goddamn it George, you better be worth it."

And then she stalks away, her hair billowing behind her. Washington slumps against the corridor wall and exhales.

He barely dodged that bullet.

He knows Martha's goals superseded her concern for her personal life. She wouldn't like their relationship, but she would bear it. Because she has to. Because she's Martha, and that's what she does. _There_ _hasn't been anyone as wholly Slytherin since Salazar himself,_ Washington thinks warily.

He runs a hand through his hair and sighs again. They'll be okay. For now.

  
Summer bleeds into fall. His mother at the Ministry pulls some strings with some high level people she knows. There's a possibility that Washington could be appointed Junior Secretary to the Minister of Magic right after he finishes school--a miraculously good appointment for one of his age. But the Washingtons always get what they want. The problem is George doesn't know what he wants.

Martha is thrilled though.

Washington distracts his growing unhappiness by throwing himself into the ferocity of training. He wakes up early and punishes himself with intense fitness drills and aerial feats that make his friends Henry and Nate dizzy as they watch. They think he's crazy, and maybe he fucking is, because lately he's feeling like he's losing control of his life. He drinks firewhiskey in bed and passes out drunk and wonders where, down the line, it started going terribly wrong.

October is blustery and cold. Washington senses mutiny among his team as he puts them through two-a-day training with disregard to temperature and schedules. They're neck and neck with Slytherin for the Quidditch Cup this year, and Washington refuses to lose to _Thomas Jefferson_ , of all people. His right hand man James Madison is hardly any better. Falsely entitled purebloods with a malice and perceived superiority Washington hates. They absolutely will not lose, if it kills Washington and his team too.

"Mate," Nate says conversationally over breakfast the day before the big match, "I don't mean to be a downer but you sure look shit."

Washington takes another hollow bite of his eggs and toast.

"Thanks."

"C'mon George," Henry claps him on the back. "You're way too uptight. It's Slytherin. You've slammed them, what, four years in a row? Five?"

"This is different. Better team. More focused players. Better training regime." Washington gets up off the bench and swallows the rest of his pumpkin juice. "Going to go finish some homework. See you around."

He stalks out of the Great Hall, leaving Henry and Nate to exchange weary glances.

Washington doesn't sleep that night. He stalks around the castle grounds and finally lays down on the Quidditch pitch, his back against the damp grass. He sits there until dawn, trying to clear his mind, trying not to think about the fact that this is his last Quidditch match, trying not to think of the broader implication--that his post-Hogwarts future is quickly approaching--trying not to think about the fact he's trapped in an unhappy relationship with no foreseeable way out. Washington doesn't even notice dawn has arrived until John Laurens finds him sprawled on the pitch, looking half dead.

"Captain!" Laurens crouches beside him. "You're batshit crazy. It's freezing out here. Have you even slept?"

"I'm fine, Laurens," Washington says coolly. He sits up and scrubs a hand down his face. Laurens is a talented sixth year and a good Keeper, but he's outspoken and nosy and a tad arrogant. Washington thinks he's a good kid at heart though. "Get the rest of the team organized. Talk with them. I'll be in soon."

Laurens nods and makes his way to the Gryffindor locker room. The team likes Laurens, and he's good with words. Whereas Washington is grit and determination, Laurens is encouraging and uplifting. Washington plans on passing down the captaincy to him after he finishes school. He'll make a good captain.

He stands up and stretches, his limbs tight and tired. He realizes with a curse that he left his broom in his dorm.

Washington should've known that was a bad omen. He never forgets his broom.

[]

They lose.

  
Granted, it's a good game, one for the books. Gryffindor is ahead, winning by a substantial amount. Washington feels so alive, so good, so exhilarated. He can taste the victory--all they need to do is catch the snitch, and his seeker, Eliza Schuyler, has already seen it a few times--

Madison is faster.

Out of nowhere, the crowd screams as a streak of green and silver comes into the line of vision. Eliza is after him, but it's too little too late, her broom simply can't match the pace of Madison's top-of-the-line.

And it's over.

Elated Slytherin students flood the pitch. A nauseatingly-triumphant Jefferson shakes Washington's hand after the game, the malice evident in his hard eyes. Washington knows he's lost, not only the game, but as a captain, as a person. Jefferson always gets what he wants. Always.

Washington doesn't come out of the shower for a long, long time.

In fact it's dark by time Washington makes his way back to the castle, his broom in tow and his deflated-looking robes slung around his shoulders. He knows Nate and Henry are probably waiting for him, like the good friends they are, with whiskey and words of encouragement. Washington frankly is not in the mood for the latter, but somewhere in the handbook of obligations for comforting inconsolable friends, it's a written rule. Henry and Nate, naturally, know he really only comes for the firewhiskey.

He doesn't make it that far.

Washington is pretty familiar with the proceedings of Hogwarts at night, has been a part of the infamous corridor trysts. He's not a prude. So when he initially hears the fervent moaning coming from behind the tapestry in front of him, he thinks no mind of it. Until he recognizes Laurens's voice.

" _Fuck, Alex, you're a goddamn menace_ ," Laurens is laughing, his voice punctuated by loud suckling noises and intermingled with the moans of a familiar-sounding voice.

Washington stops dead in his tracks.

He doesn't know why he moves the tapestry, doesn't know what he's going to get out of it, but still he does it anyway. Washington is notoriously cool-headed, but hey. It's been a rough day.

Laurens freezes in his ministrations.

His eyes instantly find those large, owlish brown eyes, and Washington swears he feels the earth still for a moment.

  
There he is, _Alex fucking Hamilton,_ propped up against the wall by Laurens's strong arms, his messy hair tumbling over his shoulders, his lips as pink and swollen as his flushed cheeks. He doesn't even look ashamed at the intrusion; he simply gives Washington a lazy smile and wraps his arms around Laurens's neck. It occurs to Washington that the kid is completely wasted.

"Hey captain," Laurens says sheepishly. He releases Alex and turns, as if to shield him from Washington's accusing stare. "We missed you after the match today. The team needed to hear from you, y'know."

"He's drunk." It isn't an question. Washington feels suddenly angry.

"Um?" Laurens is clearly thrown off, then he grins sheepishly again. As if it's something to be proud of. "Yeah. Alex has a way of--er--getting his way."

Laurens isn't sober either. Washington knows he should stay out of this--what's the love life of his players got to do with him anyway--but there's something about the situation that really unhinges him. Where his cool temperament disappeared to is a complete mystery to him.

So Washington punches Laurens.

It's a staggering blow that makes a satisfying crunch as it finds its target. Laurens nearly falls with the shock of the impact. His hand goes to his nose and comes back wet with blood.

"What the fuck, man?" he cries, looking outraged.

Washington turns around and marches off without another word.

(He never makes it back to the common room for his firewhiskey.)

[]

Martha is the first one to approach him about the situation.

He's in the library, reading up on some supplementary Herbology topics, when she corners him. Her black eyes flash. Her arms are folded against her chest.

"What was it for?" she demands. Washington signs and looks up from his book.

"Well hello to you too, dear," he says noncommittally. He takes a drink from his flask of pumpkin juice.

"Drop the pretense, George. Explain yourself."

"Martha, please," he moans, rubbing his temples. "It wasn't even that big of a deal--"

"Have you talked to Laurens yet?" she cuts him off sharply. "I think he would disagree. He says you punched him without provocation. Was it because of the match?"

"Without provocation," Washington mutters darkly. " _Whatever_. And no, it wasn't. Just leave it alone, all right? I'll talk to him later or something."

"You're so _thick_ , George!" she hisses, crouching in front of him. "If Laurens wasn't so blindly loyal to you, he could've reported the incident and endangered your post as Head Boy! Do you ever use that mind of yours, huh? Or do you use it only to fantasize over fourth year kids?"

 _Ouch_. Martha doesn't beat around the bush. Never has.

"C'mon," he says tiredly, "you can at least strike a low blow with some sort of clout behind it. Listen, I punched him because the kid was drunk and Laurens had no right to be so intimate with him when he was in that state. Who can consent when they're that drunk?"

Martha raises an eyebrow. She doesn't make a move. George takes that as a good sign.

"Yes, it was brash. I was overly emotional. I'll apologize to Laurens," George continues. "But please don't accuse me of lusting after fourth years, Martha. I don't even know who the kid is."

A marginal lie. Passable.

"You give me headaches," Martha relents after a moment. She slouches down beside him. Washington can now see how tired she looks. "I swear I'm the only one in this relationship who has enough foresight to care about your future on top of my own. It's like having a goddamn child."

"Are you insinuating something?" George lifts an eyebrow in mock salaciousness. "You really are looking to the future."

"You're an absolute scoundrel," Martha halfheartedly smiles. It's the best he gets out of her these days. They're constantly on eggshells lately. "Sometimes I wonder what you would do if I didn't keep you in line."

"Probably implode," George admits, and this wins him a real smile from Martha. She gets up with him and straightens her robes.

"Go apologize to Laurens," Martha's voice is sharp. She pauses, then noticeably softens. "And for god's sake, quell your stupid hero's complex."

Martha stoops down and kisses him, a soft and sweet gesture that George has grown to appreciate

Sometimes he forgets how lucky he is to have her, despite it all.

[]

if Washington thinks he got off easily, he was completely mistaken.

He hasn't even made it back to the common room before he's corned by him, bundled up in his Ravenclaw robes even though it isn't that chilly in the castle walls. Washington barely has time to register his surprise before he's off, talking at a mile a minute.

"I _know_ what you saw looked bad, but I promise you, John and I are good friends and he would never take advantage of me. I assume that's what you were upset about, but if it's not, well, d'you think you could possibly talk to John, he's inconsolable, you know. He really looks up to you--"

"Slow down," Washington holds up a hand and the kid falls silent with alarming alacrity. His chest is heaving. Washington curses his stupid owlish eyes that have the capacity to look so innocent yet so challenging at the same time, as if daring someone to try and reign in his fierce spirit. "Breathe. I caught about every third word of that, kid."

Alex huffs, then opens his mouth to start again.

"You don't need to repeat yourself for me to understand the gist," Washington cuts him off before he can get fired up again. "I was just heading to apologize to Laurens. But I do have some words for you."

Alex's self-assuredness freezes for a moment. He shifts.

"Firstly, you need to be sober to give consent," Washington feels as if he's patronizing him, but he really can't stand the thought of Alex letting people use him because he's too inebriated to say no. "Laurens is a good kid, but there are others who aren't as kind as him."

Washington gets an odd sort of satisfaction seeing Alex's face turn red.

"Secondly," Washington continues, plowing on despite Alex's clear embarrassment, "at least find a better place to hook up than the first floor tapestries. Abysmal at best in terms of romance."

Alex ducks his head. He's smiling sheepishly.

"You'll talk to Laurens though, right?" He presses urgently. "I don't like seeing him so upset."

"Yes," Washington dismisses his concern with a wave. "And you promise me to be more careful with yourself?"

"Yeah," he breathes. Alex pauses uncertainly. "Thanks--er--Washington."

"It's just George."

Alex brightens.

"Laurens told me you would say that," he grins. Washington doesn't have time to formulate a clever response before Alex is bounding off.

"See you around, George!"

And then he's gone, strands from his bun escaping as he runs down the corridor.

[]

He makes up with Laurens. Martha gets offered a good position in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement through his mother's recommendation. Washington is officially offered the post as junior secretary. He tells his parents he needs time to think about it. They think he's gone mad.

But Washington feels suspiciously content with his life.

Spring is in the air on the grounds, and the atmosphere of the castle improves with it. More students study outside, lounging underneath trees with books and flasks or pumpkin juice in hand. Washington makes it a practice to go flying every day to clear his head. The sight of the Quidditch pitch no longer makes his stomach curl with bitterness, and he can pass Jefferson and Madison in the halls without wanting to curse them into oblivion.

Overall, he thinks, life is on the upturn for him.

He keeps up-to-date with _The Daily Prophet_ and immerses himself with the comings and goings of the Ministry of Magic, especially because he's been contemplating his potential posting more seriously lately. It's caused his interest in current events to evolve into a study. Henry and Nate make fun of him because he refuses to leave the Great Hall until he's read the paper from front to back, but then again, they know nothing of his potential post-Hogwarts plans.

"Hey," Washington murmurs one day over breakfast, flattening the paper. Henry and Nate are trying to get the attention of Angelica Schuyler, Nate's longtime crush but so far unrequited partner. " _Hey_. Look at this."

In big bold letters, the caption of the front page reads:

_New Legislative Move: Protection for the Wizarding World or Prejudice Against Muggle Borns?_

_"New push from the conservative faction of the Ministry of Magic would create a Muggle Born registry and ban Squibs from all Wizard-related activities," Washington reads aloud. "Senior Member of the Wizengamot, Peter Jefferson, says measures would ensure prosperity and peace among the Wizarding community, which recently has faced scrutiny in the face of unfortunate blunders concerning its Muggle counterparts."_

"This is bad," Washington murmurs after he finishes reading the first paragraph, shaking his head. But Nate and Henry aren't listening; they're enchanting little paper airplanes to fly over to Angelica's table and perform a complex aerial maneuver. She sets them aflame with her wand and doesn't even look over her shoulder for the source of the disturbance.

Nate groans. Henry snickers. Washington immediately recognizes it as a lost cause and continues reading.

_Jefferson maintains that the new measures fall within the legislative rights outlined by The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy. As leader of the conservative faction, he has worked tirelessly to get his plan in front of the Lower House of the Wizengamot for review. The results of the vote are expected to be released tomorrow. Full details regarding Jefferson's plan can be read on page 5._

"I can't believe this," Washington mutters, folding up his newspaper. He tucks it underneath his arm and drains his goblet. "Hey guys, I have to go to the library."

"To read, yeah, yeah," Nate finishes without paying any attention. "We know, Mr. Head Boy."

Henry sniggers. Washington hits him upside the head with the newspaper and leaves the two of them to continue their fruitless venture in wooing Angelica.

Washington knows that the conservative faction in the Ministry of Magic has used demagogic techniques to win support, but the thing that really unsettles him is the fact that their thinly veiled prejudice is gaining traction. Muggle-borns and Squibs have fought an uphill battle for rights, and it infuriates Washington that despicable people like the Jeffersons want to take that away.

The news plagues him for the rest of the week.

[]

There is a commotion in the courtyard.

As Head Boy, Washington is dutifully obliged to investigate the situation. He's tired (it's been a very long week) and he just wants to collapse in one of the large armchairs by the Gryffindor fire, but the crowd is unruly and restless and Washington knows Martha would have his skin if he didn't uphold the responsibilities of his post.

He pushes through the crowd uneasily. Washington can hear a voice magnified by some sort of amplifying spell. Nate is by his side; Henry disappeared hours ago with some Hufflepuff girl and they haven't seen him since.

"They say that the injustice is the breach of security that comes from Muggle-borns and Squibs," the voice says, a tremor of passion disturbing the cadence of his speech, "but I say that the true injustice comes when we allow hatred to become a political party and discrimination to become political policy! What Jefferson called for is magical elitism, and we will not subject ourselves to a two class society because demagogues threaten the health of our Union! We are wizards, connected by the magic in our veins regardless of our parentage or ability, and we will fight together to protect the most vulnerable of us all!"

The cobblestones reverberate with the ferocity of the cheers. Washington finally gets to the front of the dense crowd.

He shouldn't be surprised, he really shouldn't.

Alexander Hamilton never knew how to let injustice slide underneath his nose.

"Join me in protest. Join me in unity. Join me in fighting the good fight, the timeless fight, the antagonistic fight against those who would oppress us!" Alex pauses to collect his breath, the wind whipping his hair around his flushed cheeks. His eyes burn with the intensity of his passion, matched only by the ferocity of his words. "The beautiful thing is we are more powerful than they think us to be. That is our greatest asset. We exercise our power by protecting our people and topple the tyrants who use hatred as to divide us. To the Wizarding world!"

Alex raises his wand in the air, golden sparks flying from the tip like stars. The crowd follows suit, their cheers so loud Washington swears they'll hear them in London, muggle protection laws aside.

"Wow," Nate whispers, nodding his approval. "That was good. I expected him to speak up sooner though."

"Why?" Washington says incredulously. He knows he would've never had the courage to speak like that at Alex's age, nor the oratory skill.

"He's muggle-born, of course," Nate rolls his eyes. "Everyone knows that. There was this big scandal about whether he should be allowed to attend Hogwarts after his parents died because they had to place him in a Muggle orphanage and apparently he acted out. The Ministry had to show up and everything. He got off without any charges because it's hard enough controlling magic at that age, let alone while struggling with dead parents. Take a guess who was heading the hearing committee."

"He's muggle born?" Washington says blankly. "I always thought he was... Never mind. And I don't need to guess. The Jeffersons love prodding their noses into other people's business."

"They wouldn't kick him out anyway," Nate shrugs. "He's too smart. He's fostering with Aaron Burr now, I guess. And clearly raising hell."

They begin to walk back towards the castle. Dusk is quickly falling.

"How do you know so much about the kid?" asks Washington, raising an eyebrow.

"Burr is dating Angelica," he says grimly. "When I went over to their place, he was always there with her and he brought Hamilton with him. Plus he's pretty interesting. Nice too. And he's hoping just as much as I am that Angelica breaks it off with Burr. For being foster brothers, they sure do have an odd dynamic."

Washington says nothing. Nate doesn't expect him to. They walk in companionable silence.

He doesn't know why he always thought Alex was from a wealthy family. The majority of prominent people he knows are from wealthy pureblood families--Laurens, Martha, the Schuyler sisters, Jefferson, Madison, himself. He just automatically clumped Alex with them too. But Washington can now piece together the clues: his frayed robes and used books, his shabby shoes and old trunk. It doesn't make him think anything less of Alex--in fact, it raises his regard for him. Being muggle born is an increasingly difficult burden to carry these days.

"I'm going to find Henry," Nate says, giving Washington a quick wave. "His mum wrote to me to keep an eye on him, as if I'm any more responsible than he is. Pfft. She should've written to you."

"Whatever," Washington waves dismissively. "Good luck chasing him down."

He is thinking about other things that don't involve Henry's implied sex life. Washington watches Nate go, his uneven loping strides slightly mesmerizing. Or maybe he really is just that tired. Very probable. Washington has been preparing himself for his entrance into political life, and it's draining him of his last reserves of energy. His own sex life has been alarmingly dull lately, which in combination with his lack of sleep, has him feeling unbalanced and moody.

Washington thinks that maybe Henry has the right idea about it, sneaking off to castle grounds.  
  
He's thinking of ways to remedy the sad state of his romantic life when he hears hisses of pain coming from an alcove down the corridor. Washington's eyebrows furrow. The sounds evolve into moans of agony and quiet cursing accompanied by shifting behind the tapestry. Washington stops in his tracks.

For the second time that semester, he runs into Alex Hamilton in a state of distress.

This time, Alex is sober and a lot less content than when Washington last found him here. His nose is bleeding profusely, his eye is swollen and puffy, his mouth is cut, he's hugging his ribs protectively, and his hair falls around his face in ragged waves.

"What in the _world_?" Washington blinks, alarmed and concerned. "Merlin's beard, were you attacked by a bloody _hippogriff_?"

"I don't think Thomas and his friends would take kindly to that comparison," Alex says wryly. He uses the sleeve of his robes to dab at his nose. "They're pretty particular about what you say about them, you see. Very thin-skinned."

He gives a self-deprecating laugh.

"They beat you up?" Washington says incredulously, catching onto the implied message. "For your speech?"

"I assume so," Alex shrugs. "Dunno. There wasn't much time for conversation. They asked me if I wanted to duel with wands or fists. The rest is history."

"You fought multiple people with just your hands."

"Yes."

"And you lost?"

"Clearly."

"And you declined to use magic for what reason exactly?"

"Hubris is a dangerous vice," Alex winces as he attempts to straighten himself. "It doesn't need to explain itself."

"I'm sure the healer won't accept that answer when I escort to down to the hospital wing."

"I'm sure she wouldn't, but I won't have to worry about that," Alex says carefully, "because I won't be going to the hospital wing."

Washington narrows his eyes.

"I could report all of you," he says poignantly. "You're not in any particular position to be pressing conditions onto me."

"The insufferable perceived superiority of the Head Boy status," Alex sighs. "I thought you would be above that, Washington."

"It's George."

"Fine. George."

There's a pause as they size each other up.

"I could talk to the heads of their houses," Washington says finally. "This sort of behavior is inexcusable and unbecoming, you know. The beating you sustained is probably punishment enough for you though."

"Don't do it," Alex's response is swift and firm. "I brought it upon myself. The issue is resolved, as far as I can tell."

Another pause. Washington considers the situation.

"Fine. I could take you to a friend to heal those ribs."

Alex grins, assuming that old air of confidence.

"I'll pass," he says, and it could almost be perceived as causal if he didn't add, "but I wouldn't say no to you taking me out for a few drinks."

Washington is thrown completely off. He really doesn't know where to go with that.

"You know, this is the second time I've managed to run into you in some degree of distress," Washington folds his arms against his chest. "I'm starting to think you simply can't care for yourself."

"Then maybe you should make it a habit to catch me on my better days," he says, and _okay_ , now he's _definitely_ flirting. He's just been transformed into a human punching bag, and yet he has the salaciousness to flirt. Washington just doesn't know what to make of this kid.

"Let me walk you to your common room," he says finally, offering Alex a cloth to stem the moderate blood flowing from his nose. "I should add that my suggestion was not really a suggestion at all, but rather a recommendation that you follow with as little obstruction as possible."

Alex laughs delightedly.

"Fine. I submit," Alex limps towards Washington. He has a distinct feeling that Alex tossed in another thinly veiled innuendo. "For now, at least."

"You're insufferable," Washington notes. Alex uses his shoulder to leverage himself as he winces again, a curse escaping his puffy, bruised lips. Washington thinks with some satisfaction that he won't be kissing Laurens any time soon.

He quickly squashes that thought. _What the hell?_

"So I've been told," Alex says with a laugh. "You'll find that sentiment is a popular one."

"I was _joking_ , kid."

"Yeah, and I wasn't," he replies, and if Washington wasn't so perceptive, he would've missed the bitterness in his voice. "No matter. I'd rather be outspoken and firm in my beliefs than be a coward."

"How very noble," Washington says, and Alex laughs again.

"You know, you have a habit of making me feel silly for everything I say," Alex is limping pretty badly now, but making a real effort to hide it. Hubris indeed. "I can't tell if I like that about you or not."

Washington wants to reply with: _you have a funny habit of filling my thoughts and driving me insane, and I definitely can tell you that I like that about you_ , but the sensible part of his brain tells him that it's probably a bad idea.

"Well, while you figure it out, how about you get some rest?" Washington says neutrally. Perfect. They're outside the Ravenclaw common room, and he has a perfect reason to depart before he does something he might regret. Damn Alex for having eyes like that. Honestly.

"I was serious about the drinks, you know," Alex says after a pause, his face earnest. There seems to be some sort of conflict going on in his head--he's not very good at hiding his emotions--and Washington feels like he's waiting for him to do something--

His eyes linger a little too long on Washington's lips. Oh god.

Before Washington can decide what to do, a third figure comes slinking into view from stage left.

Washington isn't sure if he's relieved or annoyed at the interruption.

"Alex, for God's sake, I can't leave you alone for an hour," the newcomer says, clearly exasperated. "You know Angelica and Eliza both will have my skin! What're you doing, provoking fights?"

Alex's face shifts so fast Washington isn't sure if he imagined the last thirty seconds.

"It's not far from the truth," he says sheepishly, shrugging. "Washing--er, George--this is Aaron, my foster brother."

Oh. So this is Aaron Burr. He looks older than Alex, and they share the same intelligent eyes, but that's where the resemblance stops. Washington senses a stiffness about him that Alex totally lacks.

"Well met," Burr extends a hand, and Washington has to suppress an eye roll. Pretentious. Of course. "Although our families frequently cross paths during the summer social season, it's a pity we haven't conversed until now."

Burr. The name is familiar. Of all the rich, pretentious pureblood families the Washingtons frequent, Washington has a hard time keeping them all in line, but he recognizes this one.

"Interesting," Washington says noncommittally as he shakes his hand. Alex coughs, suspiciously sounding like a badly disguised laugh. "You should probably take better care of Alex, by the way."

"No, he should probably take better care of himself," Burr scowls. Alex shrugs again, but Washington can see the mirth in his eyes. "I've tried polishing him up and reigning him in, but he's like an unbroken housepet. It drivers Mother crazy."

"Yeah, yeah," Alex waves away his concerns. "Stop boring George. I need rest and preferably peace, Aaron. See you around, George."

Washington nods, watching as Alex and Aaron make their way to their common room, bickering like brothers the whole way.

Washington exhales deeply.

This kid is going to kill him.

[]

Washington ends his Hogwarts career with a bang.

He scores all Os on his N.EW.T.s, which makes his mother cry and his father misty-eyed. He returns home with Martha, exhausted and pleased with himself and overwhelmingly apprehensive about his new position as junior secretary to the Minster of Magic. Martha scores a secretaryship with the Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, an exceedingly good position for one of her age.

She hasn't stopped smiling since she received the letter.

He bids farewell to the castle for the last time and all the memories its halls held for him the past seven years. Washington isn't the type to get sentimental, but he nearly loses his composure when he finally closes the dormitory he's shared with Nate and Henry for seven years for the last time. He makes all sorts of empty promises to write letters and swears to keep in touch, all the while secretly aware of the fact that he'll probably never see any of those people again.

It kind of really sucks.

Washington feels like he's being forced into a shadow too large for him to ever compete with, and it makes him feel foolish. He knows this is what he was bred for, knows that he's endowed with the gifts to be successful, and he knows that failure isn't an option, but those comforts only serve to make the situation worse. His father assures him that the apprehensions he holds are normal for what he dubs green politicians, and that they'll get better with time, but Washington isn't so sure. He really just misses the simplicity of his Hogwarts days, where the largest things he had to worry about were Quidditch practice or whether or not Henry was dating the Hufflepuff girl or the Ravenclaw girl.

  
The summer social season of that year is one for the books.

It's an endless blur of fancy parties and fancy people in fancy clothes who speak fancy words that Washington is secretly disgusted with. Martha accompanies him everywhere, and she's beautiful and smart and special and he knows he should love her the way he should love the exclusive dinners and gaudy balls, but he really can't bring himself to feel more than occasional affection for her. They sleep together, yes, but Washington has to be drunk to feel anything other than uncomfortableness and it's clear Martha only bears it out of a perceived responsibility she feels.

Washington begins to realize halfway through the summer that she's having a fling with the rich aristocrat from Beauxbatons, Marquis de Lafayette. He's French and good-looking and intelligent and certainly enamored with Martha. He doesn't know why he feels so betrayed at the realization.

He sees them at a party once, flirting openly over goblets of wine, and she catches his eye from across the room, daring him to intervene. Washington feels ridiculous because she's right, he'd be an absolute hypocrite if he tried to get angry with her. So he lets her disappear with Lafayette that night, and tries to act unperturbed when she comes back in the morning smelling of French cologne.

The summer drags on, and Washington mostly feels drained and emotionally empty. His parents never seem to tire of bragging about him. Martha never stops smiling from her position on his arm. The wine never tastes good and the conversations always fall flat. Washington tells himself that this is the unofficial life of a politician, and he has to learn to get good at it.

He tells himself it's bearable.

The last party of the social season is a spectacle like no other. The Washingtons host it themselves at their estate that their mother dubbed Mount Vernon when George was born. Nearly a thousand people are invited, and the house elves spend weeks preparing for the event. George hasn't slept in two days when the evening finally arrives, which forces him to run his face under cold water just to look awake. Martha dazzles, of course, but she quickly finds Lafayette in the crowd and disappears for the rest of the night.

Washington doesn't go looking for her.

He runs into Laurens early in the party. They exchange slightly chilled greetings, despite Laurens's effort to be cordial. He also got a high-ranking appointment to the Ministry of Magic, so they'll probably be working together frequently when autumn picks up. Washington tells himself that he can't hold a grudge over something so silly for that long. At least he hopes.

He's just departing from the conversation with Laurens when he hears a familiar drawl behind him.

"Well, Washington, fancy seeing you here," Jefferson's insufferable voice is unmistakable. Washington turns around slowly.

Jefferson is dressed in ridiculously expensive velvet dress robes, his starched collar even more stiff than his disposition. Madison is at his side, looking equally overdressed and aristocratic. Washington feels anger rise in him just at the sight of the pair. Alex's bruised face isn't something he's likely to forget soon.

"Yeah, well, this is my house," he grits, balling his fists at his sides. He decides to skip the small talk. "I know what you did to that kid, Jefferson. Alex Hamilton."

"Not familiar with the name," Jefferson smiles coldly. He takes a goblet of wine from a tray carried by a passing house elf. "You seem to be quite interested in his affairs, though. Is Martha aware? Or is she preoccupied? I hear the French are great lovers."

Washington knows he's intentionally baiting him. He's wise enough not to take it.

"Enough, Thomas," Madison says lightly, stepping between the two men. "We're here to congratulate you on your appointment as junior secretary. Thomas's father is senior undersecretary to the Minister, you see. A position Thomas is soon to inherit."

"And James's father is Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot," Jefferson slides in coolly. "We'll be colleagues, if it pleases you to use that term. There's no need for lingering ill will between us. Pureblood families must uphold the tradition of mutual respect."

"You know we don't share the same views," Washington says firmly, never breaking eye contact. "And you should know this isn't the place to discuss those things."

"Of course you're right," Jefferson gives another repulsively snide smile. "Decorum must be upheld. _Ah_! Aaron Burr. Come join us!"

Washington turns to see Aaron, dressed in the same superfluous manner as Jefferson and Madison. Angelica is on his arm, beautiful as ever. Next to her is Eliza, of course, looking like the picture of loveliness, with the equally pretty Peggy at her side. And then--

"Alex!" Washington is so shocked he can't suppress his surprise. Unlike the rest of them, Alex is dressed in muggle clothes: a t-shirt and ripped jeans with tattered tennis shoes. His hair is pulled back into a bun and several strands of hair fall around his tanned face. He looks ridiculous against the rest of the impeccably-dressed crowd.

Washington absolutely loves it. The defiant little bastard!

"Hey," Alex smiles. His eyes harden as hey meet Jefferson's. Eliza stiffens beside him.

"Ah, you must be Alexander Hamilton," Jefferson says, feigning imperviousness. The words drip in distaste. "How... _Quaint_."

There's an uncomfortable pause as the two size each other up.

"Nice dress robes," Alex finally comments, his hands in his pockets. "I think my grandnan owned the same set."

" _Alex_!" Burr admonishes. Eliza giggles. "I'm sorry. He's not used to being at events of this caliber."

"Clearly," Jefferson says, his face flushed. "Perhaps the muggle-repellent charms placed around your estate simply were not strong enough, George."

"That's enough," Washington cuts in, his voice sharp. "Alex, I'll show you where the food is, yes?"

"Sure," Alex gives Burr a dark look that doesn't look promising at all, followed by an equally searing glare thrown towards Jefferson. Clearly this is the best option for diffusing the situation.

"Till we meet again," Washington says politely, nodding at each of them in turn. The parting is socially appropriate. A save-face for them all.

He quickly leads Alex away.

"That unbearable prick," Alex mutters, fuming as soon as they're out of earshot. Washington doesn't know if he's referring to Burr or Jefferson. Or both. "I don't know how you stand these people. They're revolting."

"I don't have much a choice," Washington shrugs. He leads Alex to a quiet area on the side of the lawn. He really had no intention of leading Alex to the dining area.

Alex doesn't seem to mind.

He flops on the grass, his long limbs spread-eagle. He's clearly grown over the summer. He's even skinner than he was before, and the kid is naturally slender. Washington could encircle his bicep with one hand.

"I can't believe Aaron made me go to this pathetic excuse for socialization," Alex complains, and Washington has to admire his boldness at insulting the party in front of the host himself. The kid is intelligent, yes, but clearly unpolished. Washington sort of likes it though.

It's refreshing.

"Don't let my parents hear that," Washington laughs, sitting down next to him. He takes a sip out of his goblet. "I'm glad you came though, Alex. I was about to lose my mind."

He brightens visibly at that.

"Eliza tried to get me out of it. She hates these things as much as I do, but she has to go to them, being pureblood and rich and all," Alex fiddles with a piece of grass, his back flat against the lawn. Washington can admire his profile from this angle. He never knew Alex had such long eyelashes.  
  
He pauses thoughtfully before adding: "I think that Aaron thinks that the more events he drags me along to, the less muggle-born I'll be."

There's a pause. Washington decides to ignore that piece of information in exchange for less controversial conversation topics.

"I heard you're fostering with him," George says casually. "Is it that bad?"

"Nah," Alex shrugs. "Eliza comes over a lot, and she's my best friend. He's just pretentious and uptight and an elitist. He can be funny sometimes though. If you're drunk."

"Alright," Washington chuckles, "fair enough."

There's another measured silence before Alex sits up a bit.

"So... Junior secretary to the Minister, eh?" Alex starts. "How's that feel?"

Washington shrugs.

"Just like these parties and these people. Something thrust upon me that I'll learn to like," he says honestly. He's never been so open with anyone else. It surprises him how easily these things spill out of his mouth with Alex around. "I think I want to go into the Ministry though. But that's the problem: I really never know what I want."

"I bet you're tired of hearing people say they're jealous," Alex sighs, "and I won't act like I'm not, because I would love that prestigious of an entry level appointment. But being unsure about your own future while everyone else plans it around you must be infuriating. So I'll diverge from the usual script and say: I'm sorry."

"That's a first." Washington drains his goblet and tilts his head back. God he's tired. And probably drunk. "But you're right. You're pretty smart, kid."

"So I've been told," Alex flashes him a grin. "But honestly, you'll be fine. You're the perfect sort of politician. Level-headed, well-connected, well-raised, good family name..."

In other words, all the things that Alex is not, and envies him for. Washington probably is too perceptive for his own good. That or Alex really is that terrible at hiding his emotions.

"This is probably a weird time to bring it up, but I wanted to tell you that I still remember what you did for me over break," Alex continues abruptly. "My third year. That was really cool, man. I've always been too scared to talk to you and properly thank you, but I figure now is a good time to do it, when I'm pretty buzzed. Plus e probably won't see much of each other again."

"You're scared of _me_?" Washington laughs, waving dismissively. "C'mon."

"Do you even know who you are?" Alex rolls his eyes. "You're George Washington. I'd be dumb not to be a little bit intimidated. Hero of the Quidditch team, Head Boy and prefect, the student who scored straight Os on his N.E.W.T.s, and ridiculously good-looking. The practical formula for instant intimidation."

Now Washington really laughs.

"Good-looking, eh?" He shakes his head good-naturedly. "If I wasn't sensible, I'd say you're flirting with me."

"Well, thanks for finally picking up on it," Alex leans a little closer. He smells of firewhiskey. "Like I said, alcohol really does wonders to my inhibitions."

He's close now. Washington's breath catches.

"I've already had to lecture you about consent, kid. Especially while drunk."

"Okay," Alex breathes, and now he's definitely too close. His hair falls in his face. "What would you do if I said I consent right now?"

Fuck. This is not the situation he wanted to be in. He knows Alex is a shameless flirt, knows he's worse when he's drunk, knows he's attracted to the kid, knows he hasn't had a good shag in a while, knows he's on the verge of doing something dumb. Washington wonders if the subliminal part of him wasn't begging for this to happen when he led Alex to this empty part of the backyard, away from the noise of the party.

And Aaron Burr isn't here to interrupt this time.

"Can you not be so principled and uptight for once?" Alex huffs impatiently, tugging his hair out of his bun. It tumbles around his shoulders. "For Christ's sake, just kiss me."

Washington definitely doesn't need to be told twice.

He closes the space between them within an instant, crushing his lips against Alex's plump ones. The reaction he gets out of Alex is so immediate it feels heavenly ordained: he opens his mouth, deepening the kiss eagerly. He never breaks the embrace as he positions himself across Washington's legs, straddling him. Alex is pliant in his arms, all lanky arms and soft skin.

Washington holds him with one hand at the small of his back, the other in his hair, tugging on it slightly. Alex tilts his head back, gasping for breath, his frame heaving in Washington's embrace. Washington takes the opportunity to kiss down his neck hungrily, savoring his soft supple skin with an appetite he didn't know he had before. The passion that overwhelms him is insatiable; he needs to run his hands over Alex, feel the divot of his collarbones, inhale the scent of his hair, capture the feel of his hot, wet mouth against his. Washington has never been so hard in his entire life.

He thinks about the fact that Laurens has had him like this, and it drives him crazy. He kisses Alex more furiously, more fiercely, obliterating any other person who's ever seen him this way, panting and relentless, hair messy and cheeks flushed. Washington wants to break him, unravel him, shatter him, until he's a whimpering mess beneath his body. He just can't get enough of the kid, despite his desperate touches and hungry mouth.

  
"Are you," Alex pants, breaking apart for just a moment, "going to take me upstairs, or do I have to ask for that too?"

Inhibitions were clearly left five minutes ago. Washington really couldn't say no if he tried.

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?" Washington bites at his neck again, patting him gently on the back. "C'mon. Let's go."

He leads Alex by the hand to the side entrance. The house is completely deserted: all the guests are on the lawn, including the house elves. It's dark in the halls and Alex stumbles a few times as Washington finds the spare bedroom and closes the door behind him.

"Are you sure about this?"

His chest is heaving. Alex's eyes look bright in the dim room, illuminated by a lantern outside.

"Has anyone ever told you," Alex grins, tugging Washington down by the front of his robes until he's on top of Alex's slender body, "that _you_ talk too much?"

[]

Washington wakes up early the next morning.

The sun hasn't risen. It's completely dark in the bedroom; he's thrown off for a moment. He sits up suddenly and sees the crumpled bed sheets next to him.

Empty.

But clearly someone was there.

Washington groans, his head throbbing. He's not sober enough for this.

[]

The next time he wakes up, it nearly midday.

A house elf taps him gently on the shoulder, rousing him from his sleep. Washington is much more groggy this time; he has to open one eye at a time to properly acclimate to his surroundings. He feels a tremendous swoop of his stomach as last night comes rushing back to him.

"Miss Martha wants to see Master, if that's what pleases him," the house elf says demurely, bowing her head. Duri, Washington recalls. He likes her.

"Yes, send her in," Washington sighs, closing his eyes. "Thanks, Duri."

She bows and leaves him.

Washington sits up, glancing at the spot next to him which recently was occupied by Alex Hamilton. _Merlin's beard_. Washington really doesn't know where his self control or sense of restraint is disappearing to, but God help him if it doesn't return soon.

But _Christ_ , if Alex wasn't worth it.

Martha knocks twice on his door, startling him.

"Come in," Washington says. He sighs. He attempts to pull the duvet up to his chest to hide his near-nakedness.

Martha crosses the threshold easily, her hair pulled back into a ponytail and her robes already on. The air of deadly determination around her sends a cold chill down Washington's spine. He already knows she's circling for the kill.

"Morning, George," she smiles with absolutely no friendliness behind her eyes. God save him. "Did you sleep well?"

"Fair enough, I suppose."

She sits on the edge of the bed. There's a crumpled piece of paper in her hand.

"Your mother didn't want to wake you for breakfast. She says you're exhausted," Martha continues in that frighteningly-level voice. "She let you sleep in, naturally."

"Oh," is all Washington can think to say. He knows she's ready to drop the bomb.

"I'm sure Alexander Hamilton knows why you're so exhausted," she says sweetly, unfolding the note. "That or he coincidentally dropped this note on your pillow."

She extends it to him. Washington sucks in a breath. He takes it.

Alex's handwriting is loopy and hard to read in some spots:

_Hope you didn't mind I used your shower. Monogrammed towels, though? Really?_

_Cheers,_

_A. Ham_

Washington says nothing.

"Do you fucking care about anything, George?" Martha says quietly. "Is everything we built together a joke to you?"

"Martha, I don't know what you want me to say,'' George says tiredly. "You think I don't know it was dumb? Of course I do."

"Dumb. _Dumb_. Ha!" She laughs shrilly. "You have the audacity to sleep with Aaron Burr's _underage_ foster brother right under the nose of Jefferson, who would tear you apart for this, right on the eve of your first day at your new post, and you have the audacity to minimize the situation by calling it _dumb_?"

"Don't act like you've been faithful to me!" Washington says, suddenly angry. "You can't act morally righteous when I know you've been sleeping with Lafayette for weeks, _which I didn't reprimand you for, by the way_ , and I have one fling and suddenly it's the end of the world?"

Martha looks like she could kill him.

"You really don't get it. You really are that fucking daft." She bites her lip, barely controlling her rage. "I know discretion, for one thing. But do you understand what the repercussions would be if people knew you were sleeping with the foster son of the Burr family? That's a whole different caliber of misdemeanor, George. Your career would be obliterated before it started, and you'd drag mine down as well.

Damnit. He really hates it when she logics him into submitting to her reasoning.

"Okay," he exhales, "okay. You're right, Martha. What do you want me to do?"

"I don't know, maybe use your brain instead of your cock for once," she says sarcastically. She has to pause to recollect her thoughts. Martha looks him dead in the eye and continues: "I don't want you talking with Hamilton. No letters. No visits. No communications whatsoever. No more affairs either, for Christ sake, especially with underage kids."

Washington really did forget that Alex hasn't come of age yet. _Fuck_. He really is going to have to do better in the future.

"I know my... relation with Lafayette wasn't prudent either," she says finally. "We're going to have to stop this, George. We are in a relationship, and we need to start acting like it. Both for our sanity and public image."

Washington nods shortly. She's right. Of course.

"I love you, George," Martha says after a heavy pause. There's something off about her voice; George looks closely at her and sees tears coming to her eyes, and _shit_ , Martha never cries. Washington puts an arm around her. She buries his face in his shoulder. "I just want this to work for us."

"I know," he sighs, kissing the top of her head. "I love you too, Marth."

And he does, in his weird way. She's been with him for so long that they have formed a peculiar but close bond. He really feels horribly about hurting her this way, especially when Martha actually loves him, and would do anything for him to reciprocate her love. If he's honest, he would too. It would make things a hell of a lot easier.

"Then do better," she sniffs, wiping her eyes. She takes a deep breath and composes herself. Her moment of weakness is clearly over. "Start packing. We leave for London tonight. We start work in three days' time."

"Okay," Washington smiles, squeezing her hand. "We'll get through this. I'm proud of you, you know. We're well-poised and prepared for this transition into political life."

"I know. If we don't manage to fuck it up, of course," Martha laughs humorously, standing up. She sighs.

"Get dressed. We'll get lunch together."

And she disappears with a click of the door.

 

Washington collapses against his pillows. _God save him._

[]

 

 

 

 


End file.
